Wild Cat: Wild Things, Book 2

by Beverly Rae

  Bryer and Dirk rolled together, the werecat clawing at the snarling werewolf. Fangs dripped saliva and blood. Claws dug into fur, puncturing the skin underneath to release flow after red flow. The two shifters tumbled over in the grass, neither one letting go of the other. Dirk sank his fangs into Bryer’s shoulder, his face splattered with the werecat’s blood. But Bryer barely noticed the werewolf’s hold on him. He tore at Dirk’s back, ripping fur and skin away in large chunks.

  Alex managed to get to her front paws, but her foggy brain couldn’t make her back legs work. She fell to the ground again, whining from the frustration and the searing ache in her side. She tried again to get up, and again, failed. But even if she could get to her feet, who would she help? Her brother or Dirk? Torn in body and in spirit, she lay on the ground as the battle between the two men raged on. She moaned. But what about Bryer? Should she save him and let him continue to kill? Could she watch him destroy Dirk? Or could she save both?

  The two shifters broke apart, each stumbling away for a moment’s rest. But the respite didn’t last long. Releasing a roar that was more like a demon’s howl, Bryer leapt at Dirk, fangs bared and claws flexed. Dirk, his chest heaving, attempted to sidestep the attack but couldn’t move fast enough. The werecat struck him with one swipe of his massive paw, knocking the werewolf to the ground. Bryer jumped on top of him and tore at his exposed belly. Flailing now, Dirk tried to gain a hold on the impossibly quick werecat, but only managed light, nonlethal blows. Bryer let out another awful roar, this one filled with the joy of victory.

  Alex’s head cleared and she tried once again to regain her footing. This time her legs held and she scrambled to her feet. She wobbled a moment, fearful that her strength would give out.

  Bryer jumped away from Dirk who lay gasping for air, stretched out on his side. Adopting a sly smile, he paced around the werewolf, occasionally swatting at him to elicit a groan. Making satisfied noises that sounded like chuckles, Bryer finished circling his victim and turned to face Alex.

  Alex, now fully shifted, growled, lowered her head and laid her ears back. Bryer swished his tail in challenge, then lowered it between his legs, reminding her of the many times they’d wrestled as cubs. But this was no playtime. With his ears laid back, he snarled at her, daring her to attack.

  Alex glanced at Dirk who lay unmoving, his gaze transfixed on her. Their eyes met and she knew, with absolute certainty, what he was thinking.

  Run.

  If she obeyed, Dirk would die and Bryer would continue his killing spree. Innocent people, other friends and loved ones would die. She whimpered, torn between the two men. But how could she choose between them? She looked at Bryer who waited, giving her time to make her decision, and cringed at the hate in his face.

  The urgency in Dirk’s eyes grabbed her, clenching her stomach into a knot. His intense expression told her she’d have to choose.

  She decided to risk everything. Shifting, she regained her human form to reach out to him. “Bryer, stop. Please. For me.” Bryer’s soft rumble gave her hope. “I know you can’t be this cruel. You’re my brother. I love you.”

  Bryer waved his tail back and forth, then crouched beside Dirk. His hard eyes sent chills through her. Gathering her resolve, she took a step toward them. “Please let me help him. For the sake of what we once were, do as I ask. If you do, I promise you, we won’t keep tracking you. But for my sake and yours, you must leave the area and never come back.”

  Was that a smile on his face? She frowned, trying to understand what his smile meant. Was he agreeing with her plan? Hoping she was correct, she took another step toward the pair.

  Bryer crouched and snarled at her, bringing her to an abrupt stop. Slowly, as if in a nightmare, he shook his head, vanquishing her hope. Placing his head close to Dirk’s face, the werecat opened his jaws wide.

  “No, Bryer! Stop!”

  With a wicked chuckle, Bryer clamped down on Dirk’s neck and closed his eyes. Dirk’s agonized howl reverberated through her, and horror struck her in the gut, shooting bile into her mouth. Dirk’s body jerked with each yank Bryer gave and she cried out, moving quickly.

  Scooping up a nearby rock, she held it over her head with both hands and raced to stand next to her brother. Her arms trembled under the weight of the stone and her body shuddered with determination. “Bryer, I won’t let you kill him!”

  Startled by the fury in her tone, Bryer released Dirk. Disbelief, then anger, filled his face. He let out a screech and tried to get out of the way, but it was too late.

  Putting every ounce of strength she had left into the move, Alex thrust the rock down, crashing into Bryer’s head. Bones cracked and blood spewed outward. Tears blurred her vision, obscuring the terrifying scene. Letting out a strangled cry, she lifted the rock one more time and repeated the blow. With her tears mixing with her brother’s blood, she fell to her knees next to Bryer’s unmoving body.

  For a moment, the silence surrounding her was too much. Why didn’t one of them make a noise? Had she lost them both? Reaching out, she touched her brother’s back and ran her fingers along his soft fur, his quiet body. “Oh, Bryer.” She choked, the emotion stealing her voice for a few moments before she could speak again. “Why did this happen to you? To us?” Closing her eyes, she leaned over, rested her face against him and sobbed. “I’ll always love you, Bryer. Please, please forgive me.”

  Something stirred beside her. She was sure of it. Reaching out, she touched Dirk’s shoulder. “Dirk, stay with me.” A sob racked her throat, her voice sounding raw. “You can’t die. I won’t let you leave me, too. Do you hear me, Dirk? I won’t let you go.” She shook him, the rock in her gut hardening when he didn’t moan, didn’t move. But the rise and fall of his chest with each shallow breath gave her hope. “Dirk, you have to shift back to human form. I can’t carry you by myself. I’m going to need your help.” She waited, holding her breath, and almost fainted when he managed to nod. “Thank God, Dirk. Come on. You’ve got to try.”

  The first time he tried to change, he shifted part of the way, his ears growing shorter, fangs and claws retracting. But he couldn’t keep the transformation going, instead giving up and allowing the change to reverse on its own. She framed his face with her hands. “Keep trying, Dirk. You have to try again. Please. Do it for me.”

  He groaned and tried again. His body shook, with the effort to shift again or from the pain, she didn’t know. The change came slowly, much slower than it should have. She murmured encouragement to him, willing her energy, her strength into his torn body until, at last, he changed. He lay spread-eagle on the ground and she almost wished he hadn’t succeeded. In his human body, the wounds appeared more brutal, deadlier. Nonetheless, she pushed on. “You did it, Dirk. That’s great.”

  His skin was pale, his eyes closed, his breath coming in quick bursts as he pushed the air from his lungs. She pressed her lips against his forehead, closed her eyes and tried to send energy into him. “Dirk, damn it. You hang in there. Don’t you dare leave me. Open your eyes, you good-for-nothing dog.”

  His eyes fluttered and she would’ve sworn he’d spoken. But the whisper was too faint for her to hear. She placed her ear to his mouth. “What did you say? Please, Dirk, tell me.”

  His voice, weak and breathy, tickled her ear. “I am not a dog.”

  Alex laughed, wiping the tears from her cheek. “Okay, okay. You’re not a dog. But you’re not going to be a dead werewolf, either.” She took his arm and tugged him into a sitting position. Tearing the shreds of her clothes into strip bandages, she did her best to wrap his wounds. Yet, despite her efforts, the blood continued to seep through, making her cringe. But on she worked, hoping it would be enough.

  “Can’t.” His head lolled to the side and his dull eyes closed, then blinked open.

  “Yes you can. And you will.” Alex called on her inner werecat to gain extra strength, then lifted him so he could lean on her. “We have to get you help. Put your weight on me. All you have to do i
s keep moving your feet.”

  Together they stumbled forward and headed toward Bob Tally’s ranch. Alex kept her arm around him to keep him upright and a hand on his chest to keep him from pitching forward. Placing one foot in front of the other, she kept up a continuous stream of encouragement. “That’s it, Dirk. Keep moving. That’s all you have to do. One step at a time.” Alex renewed her grip on Dirk, keeping his weight on her.

  “Don’t think… Can’t make it.”

  “Like hell you can’t. I didn’t use half of my clothes bandaging your wounds only to have you give up on me. I’m almost naked because of it.” She batted her eyes at him, hoping he’d jump at her bait. Instead, he coughed and hung his head. “Come on, Dirk. We’re almost to the ranch.”

  She eyed the blood-soaked bandages on his neck and tried to ignore the large red stain. If he weren’t a strong werewolf, he’d have already died.

  The badly injured man clung to her, groaning with each step they took. “Should have…werewolf…heal faster.”

  “We’ve already talked about this. I couldn’t have carried you. At least this way you can help and we’re less likely to get shot before we reach the ranch. Now shut up and concentrate on staying on your feet.” She gritted her teeth, determined not to lose another person from her life. He needed more than his shifter’s healing qualities to survive. He needed medical attention. “Don’t give up on me, Dirk. It’s not much longer. The ranch should be over this next rise.”

  Together, they shuffled onward. Alex kept her gaze fixed on the ground ahead of them, urging him to put one foot in front of the other. She didn’t want to think any further than that, but her mind wouldn’t listen. What if he died? Could she live with another loss? First Lara and Bryer, then Conner and now Dirk. No, she couldn’t let it happen. She moaned, her heart aching as though a knife had sliced through it.

  A shout brought her head up. The ranch house lay ahead, and three men ran toward them, calling to them. “Oh, thank God. Dirk, we made it. Dirk?”

  His head hung listlessly against her and suddenly his full weight rested on her. Unable to keep him upright, she clutched him to her body and softened his fall. Kneeling next to him, she raised her hand in the air and waved to their rescuers. “Over here! Please help us.”

  Chapter Seven

  “How’s he doing?” Bob Tally peeked around the corner of the bedroom door. “And how are you holding up?”

  Alex waved him inside and struggled to place a smile on her face. “He keeps coming in and out of sleep. I don’t think he really knows where he is or who I am.” Although she’d told the rancher several times since arriving, she needed to say it one more time. In fact, she could never say it enough. “Mr. Tally—”

  “Bob.”

  “Right. Bob, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done.” They’d gotten lucky, finding their way to his ranch in time. Bob had carried Dirk inside the main house, then called for the doctor. He’d listened to her story and hadn’t denied her anything, even when she’d begged him to retrieve Conner’s and Bryer’s bodies. She closed her eyes, letting the all-too-familiar grief spread through her. Letting it have its way was easier than fighting it. If only the images of their battered bodies would fade.

  “Girl, I’ve told you often enough. You don’t need to keep thanking me. I’ve known Dirk for a while. I’m thinking it’s fitting that you two found your way to my home. That you thought to bring him here.” Bob rubbed the back of his neck. “So, Ms. Grayson—”

  “Now how many times have I told you to call me Alex? Fair’s fair, Bob.”

  “Right enough.” He chuckled, then sobered. “Alex, would you like me to contact your people for you? Tell them about…”

  She didn’t want to think of what had to be done until after Dirk healed. Then she’d deal with the pride and explain the deaths. But she couldn’t let Bob handle it either. She owed it to Conner—and to Bryer—to handle their return home. “No thanks.” She turned to him then, needing to see that he understood. “I’ll take them home, but I can’t leave right now. I can’t, I won’t leave until Dirk’s better. Until then…” She shook her head. “Is there some way…” To keep the bodies…safe? She shuddered at the thought of their bodies lying in the cold storage room but pulled herself taller, forced herself to be stronger. Conner and the Bryer she’d loved would’ve understood her need to stay with Dirk.

  “Don’t you worry none.” His eyes, so full of sympathy, wrenched her heart. “I’ll make sure the bodies—” He coughed, clearing his throat. “I’ll make sure your loved ones are taken care of until you’re ready to go.”

  She sighed, thankful to have him helping her. “Bob?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think we could have a memorial service tonight? Nothing big or formal. If only to say a few prayers? Just something to say goodbye until they can be laid to rest properly.” Her head had already said her goodbyes, but her heart needed more.

  “Of course. I’ll see to it.”

  She faced Dirk again, searching for any sign of recovery as she’d done many times since the doctor left. Was it her imagination or did he look less pale than before?

  “Uh, Alex, there’s one more thing. Some of Dirk’s people have shown up. They’re practically biting my head off to see him. I told them I had to ask you first and, frankly, they didn’t take kindly to that idea.”

  “That’s because asking a werecat for permission doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.”

  Alex jumped, twisting toward the deep voice. Two men and one woman strode into the room. Their werewolf scents assaulted her nose, blocking out all other smells.

  The tallest of the men came to stand beside her while his companions flanked the other side of the bed. The woman, tall and curvy, bent over Dirk, placing her hand on his forehead. “At least he’s not running a fever.” She arched an imperious eyebrow at Alex. Brilliant blue eyes locked on to hers. “What are you doing here?”

  The challenge in the female’s tone had Alex biting back a retort. Was she kidding? She was the one who should ask the questions. Forget the fact that they were werewolves. Who the hell were they to barge in and act like she was the intruder? “I’m Alex Grayson. I’m Dirk’s…friend.”

  The short stocky shifter next to the female snorted. “Woo-hoo. Looks like Dirk found himself a pretty kitty to play with.”

  Alex inhaled sharply, then checked Bob’s reaction. Or rather nonreaction. How could she expect him to take up for her? After all, what claim did she have on Dirk?

  The handsome dark-haired shifter standing next to her lifted the sheet to examine Dirk’s bandage-covered body. “Looks like Dirk got his butt whipped.” Letting the sheet fall, he tilted his head at her. “I hear you’re the one who brought him here.”

  Alex swallowed, suddenly feeling outnumbered. Thankfully, Bob flashed a quick smile, alleviating some of her anxiety.

  “Not only that, but she killed the werecat that’s been causing all the trouble.” Bob’s color drained from his face. “Oh, shit, Alex. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

  Frowning, she struggled against the war raging inside. She’d stopped the trouble, making good on her promise to the council, but she’d lost her brother and her best friend.

  “No shit?” The big male’s scrutiny intensified. “Then I guess we owe you a bit of thanks. Of course, if your kind had controlled the rogue cat the way you should’ve in the first place, Dirk wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

  “I hardly think that’s fair, Cannon.”

  Alex took a harder look at the tall shifter. This man wasn’t simply one of Dirk’s pack. He was a Cannon. An alpha.

  “Can we get on with this?”

  Cannon nodded at the other male werewolf. “Bronson’s right. Let’s get on with what we came to do. Sheila, go ahead when you’re ready.” Taking her by the arm, he tried to lead Alex to the door. “Thanks for everything you’ve done, but we’ll take it from here.”

  “Hey, wa
it a sec.” Alex struggled against Cannon, making him tighten his grip. She continued to protest, but it was no use. He thrust her into the hallway. She stepped toward him, running into his broad chest when he blocked the entrance. “Bob, would you explain to Ms. Grayson that she’s no longer needed?”

  Bob squeezed through the narrow opening Cannon gave him to pass. “Uh, I think she understands you well enough. Just let me know if you need anything.”

  “Will do. Oh, and thanks again for calling us, Bob.” Cannon tipped his head at her in a curt dismissal and closed the door.

  Alex scanned the yard through the front window, watching the hired hands take the coffins back to the storage room, her hand over her heart. “Thank you again, Bob, for the coffins. I can’t believe I didn’t think about that.” Bob’s carpenters had made the wooden coffins and the hired hands had joined them at the short service. The kind rancher had even taken over at the memorial when her grief had rendered her speechless, and led them in prayer.

  Alex took a deep breath, attempting to settle her nerves. She’d cried so much in the past few days. But who could blame her? With both Conner and Bryer gone, she had no one. Shirking the inclination to wallow in self pity, she focused her thoughts on Dirk and the werewolves. Those damned werewolves who weren’t letting her see him.

  Bob’s attempts to explain things hadn’t made Alex feel any better. She paced the living room, then flopped onto the sofa to stare at the ceiling yet again. “This royally sucks.”

  “I know, Alex, but let his people help. They know what to do. The human doctor’s done all he can. Dirk needs more help than he can give him.”

  “I was taking care of him and he was getting better.” But when Bob looked away, she had to admit the truth. She’d done everything she could, sitting by his bedside constantly since they’d arrived, following the directions the doctor had given her, but Dirk was still in bad shape. “I can’t take it. He has to live. He just has to.” She sat up, hands clasped in front of her, and tried to resist begging Bob to make everything all right. If only he could.